


The Flickering of Dying Light

by GavotteAndGigue



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Child Neglect, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mother-Son Relationship, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GavotteAndGigue/pseuds/GavotteAndGigue
Summary: Catherine Todd was no saint.  She was no hero, and she was too ill-equipped to ever be a suitable mother.  She loved Jason as if he were her own, but just loving someone isn’t enough to be an adequate parent.  The last year of Catherine Todd's life was filled with pain and sorrow, but it also played a pivotal role in shaping the young boy, Jason Todd, into the man he would later become. Who was Catherine?  And what was Jason Todd like as a boy, before he was left to survive on the streets?Jason Todd, in the last year of Catherine Todd’s life. As seen through his mother’s eyes.





	1. The Boy in Shining Armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is gen, because Jason is 10-11 years old. But be warned there are references to child abuse and prostitution. Nothing graphic, it's just kind of referred to and talked around.
> 
> Sadfic. Like really --horribly-- sad. Canonical death. This fic is so, so, so very dark in that way. There is no way around it really. Catherine Todd died tragically, and left her son alone to fend for himself on the streets. This story is about her, and those moments in the last year of her life leading up to her death.
> 
> I’m am not a medical professional… so if you are, and some of this seems off… well, sorry! It's just not my training, but I hope I did a decent job of making it marginally realistic.

“Mom, check this out!”  Jason sprinted toward her, somehow managing to wrangle a pile of books in his arms that nearly toppled over as he stopped short.  “They had all these books for just ten cents!”

Catherine laughed.  Jason was grinning from ear to ear, the black curls of his bangs were a little windswept and his blue eyes were sharp and bright.  It was Catherine’s first day off on a weekend in a long time, and when she had asked Jason what he wanted to do, he had immediately whipped out a paper flyer.  It advertised a book sale at Gotham Central Library.

Catherine had hesitated, not because she hadn’t wanted to go, but because they didn’t have much money to spare for books.  Jason seemed to take note, because the next thing he said was, “they sell off the old stuff for cheap. Like for pennies and stuff.  I just want to take a look, Mom. Please?”

He turned those sweet baby blues on her -- those eyes that looked so much like Willis’, but softer.  Happier. Kinder. And then he had that little pout all about his lips that made her want to pinch his cheeks even though he was ten years old… and Catherine just couldn’t say no to her Baby Jay.

So they had taken the bus down to Gotham Central Library, where Jason had immediately began pulling books out of the various bins.  Some of them Catherine wasn’t entirely sure was appropriate. _Frankenstein_ \-- wasn’t that kinda too scary?   _Wuthering Heights_ \-- Catherine remembered reading that one in high school.  She hadn’t liked it much. _A Wrinkle in Time_ \-- Catherine kind of remembered liking that one okay….  Jason continued to pile the books into a neat stack.

“I think you got enough books today, baby.  You got a bag for those? We gotta carry them home.”  Who’d have thought that her little boy would grow up to be such a bookworm?  It was surprising, since Willis had always avoided reading anything longer than a few sentences.  Back when she was in high school, she had liked reading and her grades were decent… but that was all before.  Eventually she had dropped out. Her dad had always said she was dumb. Turned out he was right. But Jason’s real mom, the lady that Willis had hooked up with before he got together with Catherine -- she had been a doctor.  Maybe Jason got the smarts from her.

“I guess I’ll see what I can fit in my backpack,” Jason was stacking and unstacking the books he had gathered, counting and scribbling some numbers on a piece of paper.  “I can get all these for five bucks, but I really want these and they’re a dollar each. I guess I’ll have to put some back.”

Jason disappeared again, and Catherine went and sat at the bottom of the entrance steps to take a smoke break.  When Jason came back, his bag was full, and the smile on his face was bright as the sun.

“Mom, I got a few bucks left.  Can we get something to eat?” Jason squeezed her hand, and it felt warm and full of energy.  “I know this guy. Food’s clean and he’s cheap.”

“Sure baby, let’s go,” Catherine smiled as she stubbed out her cigarette on the bricks.

The “guy” turned out to be a small hot dog cart at the corner entrance to Robinson Park.  Jason handed over the last of his bills, and with a big cocky grin said, “Chili dog. The works for me.  And one more for this pretty lady.”

Catherine laughed again, but shook her head.  “That’s okay, baby. My stomach’s not feeling too good again.  Why don’t you get yourself a can of soda? We can share.” The truth was she’d been feeling kind of sick for a couple weeks.  She felt a little woozy half the time. Her friend Mandy joked that she was pregnant, but Catherine hadn’t slept with anyone since Willis got nabbed.  It was probably food poisoning, she settled on. Some kind of bug that would eventually pass.

“Are you sure Mom?” Jason looked back at her worriedly.  “You haven’t eaten all day. And… you’ve been getting kinda skinny.”

“Just watching my figure, baby.  Plus I had some toast this morning, I’m good.”  

Jason didn’t look convinced.  He ordered a plain hot dog for her anyway, and afterward they settled on the grass in the park as Jason wolfed down his chili dog.  Catherine nibbled on the bun, and eventually gave Jason the rest. He was a growing boy after all.

“This is the best day ever, Mom.  Thanks,” he beamed at her.

“Sure, baby.  Anything for you.”  She pulled him against her and kissed his hair.  

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

She sat stiffly as she waited, nervously fiddling with the flimsy ties of her hospital gown.  The wax paper on the exam table crinkled as she shifted, the _crickcrickcrick_ somehow sounding incredibly loud to her ears.  The room was empty at the moment, but she could hear muffled voices discussing something in the room next over.  They were talking about her, and a hard lump was forming in her stomach as the murmur of voices paused.

She waited.

There was a soft swish of a door opening, and footsteps approached before there was a knock.  A moment later, Dr. Thompkins pushed open the door and poked her head in. “Catherine? Can we come in?”

She thought it was a little silly that Doc Thompkins bothered to ask.  This was _her_ clinic after all.  And it's not like Catherine could have said no.  What would she do? Refuse to let the clinic staff in?  Stay in the exam room forever? But Dr. Thompkins had asked if “we” could come in.  That meant another doctor perhaps, and that didn’t sound good. Catherine shifted nervously, the paper crinkling under her weight again, but she managed to find her voice to respond.  “Yeah, come in.”

Dr. Thompkins opened the door wider and stepped through, ushering in a second woman behind her.  She was petite with dark hair with the beginnings of gray at her temples. She wore glasses, her eyes were large and brown, gentle and solemn.

“This is Dr. Hernandez,” Dr. Thompkins gestured, and Dr. Hernandez stepped forward to shake Catherine's hand. “She’s an oncologist.”

“Catherine,” the petite doctor started, “I’m afraid it isn't good news, but before we continue, is there someone you would like to call?  Family? A spouse perhaps?”

“No,” Catherine shook her head.  “I… I have a son. My husband is in prison.  I have no other family.”

Which wasn't actually true, but she hadn't spoken to her family in years.  She had heard her mother passed away a while back, and her dad… she’d die before she went crawling back to him.  After what he did to her….

_She’d be sleeping at night, and sometimes the door to her room would open.  Everything was silent. He never said anything, but she would feel the bed dip.  A heavy weight leaning over her…._

“Catherine?”  Dr. Hernandez was waving to get her attention.  “Catherine, do you understand? This is very serious.  We need to run more tests. Schedule a PET scan….”

She didn't quite register the rest.  She felt numb as the doctor's voice seemed to blur into the background.  All she could think was that she _couldn't_ get sick.  She didn't have insurance.  The two jobs she worked barely paid for rent and food.  She had a little boy at home. Her precious boy, Jason. He was only ten….

_“Stage four.  Metastasis. Chemotherapy. Highly aggressive form of cancer.”_

The doctor was still talking, and all Catherine could do was nod as tears began to leak from her eyes.

_“Six months to a year. Clinical trials.  No guarantees.”_

It couldn't be, could it?  She couldn’t be sick… she had been losing weight for several months, but she had thought it was from stress.  The irregular bleeding had been alarming, but she thought it just had to do with going off the pill. She had felt dizzy occasionally, and she got headaches.  Headaches that got worse and worse… but she had often gotten headaches and tremors after she stopped using.

_“Apply for Medicaid in the meantime.  It may take forty-five to ninety days for your application to be approved.  The Wayne Foundation has funds that can be applied for.”_

She had stayed clean.  She’d been clean for almost six months.  God, it had been a bitch, but she had stayed clean.  She was going to get better for Jason, her precious boy.  She thought she was getting better, until one day she fainted during her shift at the Qmart.  She couldn't get sick. She just couldn't.

_“Is this the best number to reach you?  A case manager will call you tomorrow.”_

Catherine just nodded again.  She wiped at her eyes, trying to stifle the hiccups and sobs that had taken over her breathing.

“Catherine?”  It was Dr. Thompkins this time, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder as she handed Catherine several tissues.  “Do you need someone to take you home?”

“No,” swallowed another son and Catherine shook her head.  “I just need a minute alone, doc.”

“Of course.  Take your time.”

They left her in the exam room as Catherine got dressed.  Splashed some cold water on her face in the sink to wash off the smeared eyeliner and mascara that ran dark tracks down her face.  She looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the door. She looked thin and gaunt. Her cheeks slightly hollowed, her eyes and face were reddened from crying, but she was pale.

She looked sick.  Something was very very wrong with her.  Could it be? Could she be sick? Could what Dr. Thompkins and the other doctor was saying be true?  She didn’t want to believe it, but as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, the answer was staring right back at her with her own face.

She was dying.

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

By the time she got home, it was nearing evening.  It had taken her another half hour at the free clinic to fill out papers and collect herself enough to get on the bus without breaking down and crying again.

She got off at her stop and dragged herself upstairs to their small one room studio -- they had moved in here a year ago into public housing, after Willis went back to jail, and she couldn't afford to keep the brownstone they rented anymore.  She paused when she got to their door, taking a deep breath to calm her shaking hands, smoothing out her hair, and wiping at her eyes one more time. She didn't want Jason to see she had been crying.

She pulled out her keys and opened the door.

“Mom!  You're home late!”  Jason was perched over their small stove, stirring something in a pot.  “I found some pasta and hot dogs at the dollar store, and we had sauce left over from Señora Marquez, and the foodbank had a little brocoli...”  Jason rattled on, focused on preparing a small but impressive dinner by their standards. He didn’t look up immediately, but when he did, he immediately stopped short.

“Mom? What’s wrong?  Did someone hurt you?”  Jason hopped off the small stool he was standing on and immediately rushed over to squeeze her hands.  He also quickly glanced at the inside of her arms, and Catherine felt a flush of shame. What kind of mother was she, that one of the first things her ten year-old son would do was check her for track marks?

“Mom?”  Jason looked up at her through the curl of his bangs with bright blue eyes, his brows drawn together in concern.  The expression didn’t look right on such a young face, and Catherine felt another pang of guilt. Jason shouldn’t have to worry about her.  He shouldn’t have been trying to make dinner for them. It should have been the other way around. It was another failing. Another thing her mom was right about.  Another thing her dad had beat into her. She was worthless. She couldn’t do anything right. She couldn’t even take care of herself, let alone her boy….

“Mom, come on,” Jason’s voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts.  “Just sit down.” He tugged her forward toward their small kitchen table, pulled out a chair and guided her down into the seat, and Catherine was crying again.  Tears blurred her vision, sobs wracked her frame, and it _hurt_ in all the wrong places.  Something was so very wrong.  

She felt one of her hands being pulled away from her face, and something smooth and cold pressed into her palm.  A glass of water, and then, “Who was it? Who hurt you?”

Catherine blinked away the wetness, sipped from the edge of the glass to try and get some control over herself.  Jason was looking at her, his nose scrunched up and his eyes flaring something that looked so much like Willis when he was gearing up for a beat down.  Her little baby was definitely mad, but not at her. He was mad at whoever he thought had hurt her.

“No, baby,” she sputtered around broken hiccups.  “N.. no. Nobody hurt me.”

“Then what happened?  How come… why are you sad?”  The baby-mad expression was gone, but his face was still red.  Now he was just worried again. His eyes looked a little red and glassy too, and Catherine knew he was trying not to cry.

“Baby…” Catherine started.

“Stop, mom.  I’m ten,” Jason protested. “I’m not a baby.”

“You are, baby.  You’ll always be my Baby Jay,” and Catherine pulled Jason against her.  Held his still smallish frame against her chest. He put his arms around her neck, leaning into her lap.

“Mom, come on.  Why are you crying?”

“Baby, I went to the doctor today.  They said I was sick. Really sick.”  She barely whispered the last words, but Jason heard them all the same.  He stiffened in her arms, before he gripped her tighter in his small hands.

“But you went to see the doc?  That means you’re gonna get better right?”

“Yeah baby.  I’ll get better,” Catherine responded, but even as she said it, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach.  The truth was she didn’t know. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She had no money, no health insurance.  She was barely holding onto two jobs, and Jason was barely getting enough to eat. But she had to get better. She _had_ to.  And what else could she say?  “I’ll get better. I promise.”

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

She didn’t get better.  She got worse.

Bleeding.  She was bleeding every time she went to the bathroom, and she kept feeling sick.  Sometimes she’d feel like throwing up when she woke up, even if there wasn’t anything in her stomach to purge.  And she was so goddamned tired all the time. Still, she had to go to work. She worked hourly at the Qmart during the day, and they wouldn’t give her enough hours to get sick time.  Her night job waitressing at the Lenny’s diner on 5th street didn’t give her any time off either. If she didn’t work, they had no money. They already had to rely on the food bank, and the food stamps she got… and somewhere along the way the checks from the government had run dry.  She didn’t quite understand it, but it had something to do with her not qualifying again for another few years.

So she’d shown up for her shifts and thrown up in the little bathroom stalls at work when she could.  She’d come home in the evening to make dinner, or let Jason make dinner, and they’d get a couple hours together before she had to leave for her night shift at the diner.  She knew Doc Thompkins had been calling, but she didn’t know what to do. And the idea of talking to the doc again made her scared and terrified, so she didn’t call back for a few days.  If it weren’t for how shitty she felt all the time, she could almost forget….

Until a few days later she came home to Jason sitting at the kitchen table, waving a stack of papers in the air.  “Mom, some lady stopped by. She said she was a case manager from the free clinic? She said you needed to fill out these papers.”

Catherine was exhausted.  She didn’t want to fill out papers.  She was hungry, and she wanted to lie down, but now she felt anxious and wound up too.

“I need a smoke,” she sighed, and rifled through her purse for her pack of cigarettes.  She moved to sit half out the closest window, her legs dangling out on the fire escape to light up.

“It's okay, Mom,” Jason scooted his chair over to sit beside her, leaning his head against her arm.  It was the beginning of summer, and the Gotham heat hadn’t fully set in, but the weather was already fairly hot.  Jason felt warm by her side, his soft skin slightly tacky from the humidity and heat. She could feel his eyelashes blinking against her skin.  “Don’t worry. I helped the lady fill the papers out for you,” he said. “You just need to sign them.”

“Thanks baby.” She had a cigarette in one hand, but Catherine pulled her free arm around to caress his cheek before settling a hand over his shoulder to pull him close.  “You’re the best, Baby Jay. What would I do without you?”

Jason sighed, “Mom… she was asking me a lot of questions.  I didn’t want to say anything… but I think she wants to take me away.”

“No.  Baby Jay, she won’t take you away,” Catherine responded, almost automatically.  They couldn’t really take her Baby Jay away, could they? No. She’d been clean. And even if she was sick, she was going to get better.  She couldn’t let them take him. It would kill her if they took him.

“Mom, I remember they tried before.  The social workers, when dad went back to jail the first time.”  She felt Jason shake his head a little against arm. “I won’t let them take me away from you.  You need me.”

“You’re right baby.  I need you.” She took a final drag from the cigarette and stubbed it out on the fire escape.  She leaned down and kissed Jason on the top of his head. “They won’t take you away. I promise.”

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

She managed to write a letter to Willis to set up a time to talk.  Calls from prison were expensive, and the times that she was available at home didn’t always line up with when he could make a call.  Plus she didn’t want to talk to him when Jason was home, which meant that she had to take a few hours off from work to wait. He finally called though, and Catherine is was relieved to hear his voice again.

“Cathy, come on honey, don’t cry.  Please, baby. I can’t take this.” Willis’ deep croon sounded over the phone.  

Catherine couldn’t stop crying.  She’d barely picked up the phone and blurted out the word “cancer” before she was a mess of tears again.

“Come on baby, I’ll get someone to come check on you.”  His voice was a little unsteady. Catherine could hear the soft whoosh of him sucking in air on the other side of the line.  “You remember Joey, right? He helped me get that job running with Two-Face? He got out last week. Headed home to stay with his sister.  I’ll have him come by. He owes me. You need anything, you tell him, hear me?”

“Uh huh.”  It was the only thing Catherine could manage to say between each sniffle and hitch of her breath.

Joey came the next day.  He brought a loaf of bread and a tub of fried chicken, sat down at their kitchen table and started to dig in.

Jason wasn’t happy.  He looked pissed. He was scowling.  He even flashed his teeth a bit, like a cornered animal.  Like a little mad puppy. Even so, he didn't turn down the free food.  He grabbed a plate and piled on the chicken. Took a few biscuits too. Then set the plate in front of Catherine.  He grabbed a second plate and took a few pieces of chicken for himself.

“Dontcha worry Mrs. T.”  Joey talked around a wad of half chewed chicken in his mouth, flecks of food flying everywhere.  Catherine was a little too far away to catch any on her plate, but Jason pulled his plate back and angled away.  Joey didn't seem to notice. He kept talking. “Me and Willis, we go way back. I’ll look out for you. You need anything, you name it.”

He shoved a greasy hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled card.  “Me and Willis gonna start a new business when he’s out. We’re gonna be partners.  But here’s my card. You call me, Mrs. T. Call me for anything. And you, kid,” he pointed at Jason.  “You’re growing up pretty nice. You need a job, give Uncle Joey a call.”

Jason took the crumpled card before Catherine could reach for it.  He stuffed it in his pocket and nodded. They spent the rest of the evening listening to Joey talk about his business.  He talked about starting up a garage and how the rich folk paid money to get their rides _pimped_.  Joey took off soon after, and Jason started to stack the dishes.

“I don’t like him, Mom.  Don’t call him. Don’t let him come here again.” Jason turned to look straight at Catherine, and it was eerie.  He had a hard look in his eye that she recognized. It was the same look that Willis would get sometimes when he was angry.  When he would get drunk enough that sometimes he would hit her. She didn't like seeing that in Jason, because her Baby Jay wasn’t like that.  He was soft, and goofy, and bright and shining. It made her incredibly sad to think that there was something in him that wasn’t.

“Okay, baby,” Catherine pulled Jason into her arms and kissed his hair again.

“We’ll figure this out, okay?” Jason said confidently.  “Just the two of us.”

“Yeah, just the two of us,” Catherine agreed.

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

It took several more weeks, but the Wayne Foundation finally came through, and the case manager from the Free Clinic, her name was Lea, called to tell her that her treatment would be paid for.  She met other doctors, more nurses and more case workers. They scheduled more tests. They took more blood. They had her come into a special kind of clinic and they put her in some kind of machine that scanned her.  After that they started the treatment.

She went in once a week.  They hooked her up to all sorts of tubes and monitors and gave her some kind of drug that made her feel incredibly sick.  Jason came with her every time. He held her hand. He held her hair back when she felt sick and needed to puke. And then when her hair started to fall out, he simply held her up to keep her from falling into the toilet.

She was supposed to rest and recover between treatments, and it meant that she couldn't work.  The Wayne Foundation gave her a small amount of money, and Lea helped her apply for more money from the government.  It was a lot of paperwork, and Catherine could barely stay focused on anything let alone a mountain of forms. She felt nauseous constantly, and she was always exhausted.  All she wanted to do was sleep, but she knew the money eventually wasn’t going to be enough. She knew the money was going to dry up. The bus rides, subways, and taxis to get across the city were expensive.   She had no idea how, but somehow it all still came together, and they kept going for treatment.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Jason assured her.  “Don’t worry about it.”

And Catherine knew she should, but she didn't.  She couldn’t. Her mind was too fogged to think anymore about it.  All she knew was she could barely get up every day, and if it weren’t for her Baby Jay, she wouldn’t.

One day, Catherine woke up to find Jason had a surprise.  She could smell something in the air, like someone had been baking.  Surprisingly, it didn't make her immediately sick, and as she moved to sit up, Jason was there, putting out some slippers and draping a robe over her shoulders.  

“Mom, you’re awake!” He said.  “Cover your eyes, I have something for you.”  He helped her get up slowly, she’d been feeling weaker and weaker lately, and she looked out the window to see the sun was high in the sky.  It was sometime in the afternoon, and she’d slept away the entire morning. She felt a niggling worry about that. Days and weeks had gone by, maybe even months, and she could barely remember anything.

Jason led her out into the kitchen area, her eyes still covered by her hands, and she felt him pushing her to sit in a chair.  She followed his lead, as Jason told her to wait. There was a rustling sound, and then the unmistakable sound of a zippo lighter.

“Okay.  Now,” Jason said.  “You can open your eyes.”

Catherine uncovered her eyes and saw a small round cake, with a candle on it.

“Happy birthday,” Jason smiled, almost shyly.  Hopefully. She could plainly see that he wanted her to like it, and she did.  She loved it. She hadn’t even known it was her birthday, what with the days running together so damn much.  Her eyes began to fill with tears.

“I borrowed a cake pan from Mrs. Walker, and the foodbank had some eggs,” Jason rambled.  “They had cake mix at the dollar store.” He didn’t say where he got the candle and frosting from, but Catherine supposed it didn't matter.  She looked over to see there was also a small vase of freshly picked flowers on the table.

“Mom, do you… do you like it?  Is this okay?” Jason asked nervously, when she didn’t respond.

Catherine didn't believe in God, because if she did, then she’d have to believe that he wanted her life to be this horrible shitty existence.  But still, if he was real, then she was thankful for just one thing -- her son. Her Baby Jay, who was her only light in the darkness. Whose love and softness, and goodness shone through each and every dark day.  He was the only thing that was keeping her together.

“Jason, baby,” she was crying openly again, as she cradled Jason’s face in her hands, “Of course I love it.  I love it so much. It's just perfect. The best birthday I could ever have.”

Jason smiled brightly, but there was something else there too.  He was crying along with her, tears running down the round of his cheeks.  There was still a lot of baby fat in his features, but Catherine could see he was starting to lean out.  His face was growing just a tad sharper, more like Willis. She wasn't sure why, but that made something inside her hurt.  Not a physical feeling, but something else inside her... in her heart.

Jason wrapped his arms around her.  “Blow out the candle, Mom. Make a wish.  It's your birthday.”

Catherine took a breath and blew.  The tiny candle flame sputtered out as she made a wish.  She pictured it in her head, that sweetness, kindness, and gentle loving inside her Baby Jay, like a light inside his soul -- like the little candle flame, except she wished that his light would never go out. It was more a prayer if anything, for if there was any sympathetic god out there at all who would hear her:   _Please, I wish with everything in my dying heart that the light inside Jason will never die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- So I'm dumb and can't figure it out, maybe because I'm over 30, but i have a tumblr account @gavotteandgigue  
> \--- I know it's super morbid, but I just started thinking about this as we come up on Mother’s Day. If you’ve read any of my other fics, it may seem like I’m like this super depressed person, but I’m actually quite happy most of the time!  
> \--- Using some creative interpretation of Catherine’s origin. I prefer the original origin of Catherine not being Jason's birth mom who got sick but ultimately ODed. Not really the new 52 version where she was depicted as his birth mom and a total junkie. I guess this is more of an (un)happy medium of the two.  
> Also, this fic is not meant to be an indictment of the fictional character of Catherine Todd. I just wanted to explore what could have been some circumstances around her leaving Jason to fend for himself on the streets.  
> \--- gonna post the last chapter after sunday, so for those in the US, I won't ruin your mothers day.


	2. The Rending of Mother and Soul

The course of chemotherapy ended, and Catherine felt all the worse for it.  The doctors ran more tests and more scans. They talked in hushed voices behind closed doors, and Catherine knew that wasn't a good sign.

Dr. Hernandez was sitting with her this time, she had asked Jason to sit outside in the waiting room.

“Catherine, I'm very sorry, but the chemo wasn't successful at achieving remission.  There are options. We can try another round….”

The words seemed to drown in a growing buzz in her ears.  She felt like she was underwater, and she could hear some words trickle through.

_Cumulative side effects.  A new experimental treatment, but no guarantees…._

She shivered, the wax paper of the exam table seemed to rattle along with her bones.  It was winter now, and Catherine realized that it had been late summer when she started treatment.   Nearly six months had gone past, and she could barely remember half of it. She just remembered that Jason was constantly by her side.  He left sometimes, saying he was going to school, but he stayed home with her more often than not….

Beside her, Dr. Hernandez was still talking.  She was using words Catherine didn't understand.  

_Palliative care.  Hospice. Advanced directive._

There was one phrase that she did fully comprehend: _End of life care._

Catherine just nodded numbly.  “Thank you, doctor. I need to think about it.  I need to go home.”

“Catherine, listen closely.  Lea will be contacting you tomorrow, but you need to consider your options.  We’ll do everything we can, but you also need to think about your son.”

“Of course.  Of course.” Catherine didn't know what else to say.  Of course she needed to think about her Baby Jay. He was always there, and he was the most important thing in the world to her.  He was why she got up every day. He was why she still came to the clinic. But she didn't know what else she could do. Willis was still in jail.  There wasn't anyone else who could take him in.

She thought about her father… _shhh, Catherine.  This will be our little secret._

She thought about her mother, how she had slapped her… _you lying little bitch!_

Catherine had no one.  Jason had no one but her.

She choked back a sob as she gathered her things and left the office.  She spied Jason, standing on his tiptoes to lean on the counter at the pharmacy across the way.  He was picking up a prescription for her, and as Catherine approached, she could hear the pharmacist quote a price of several hundred dollars.

Jason didn't bat an eye.  He just pulled a wad of bills from his pocket to pay in cash.

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

Lea, the case manager, called her the next day.  Jason was out somewhere when she woke, Catherine wasn't sure where, but Lea sounded extremely concerned.

“Catherine, we still need to reapply for a special exemption for the Wayne Foundation support.  Your Medicaid coverage doesn’t extend to the experimental treatment, and that's one of the stipulations from the foundation.  The funding ended two months ago. I want to make sure you have enough to tie you over during this gap in coverage….”

Catherine's mind was spinning.  She realized she had let her mind cloud over from pain and fatigue during treatment.  She hadn't been paying enough attention and had assumed Lea had worked with the Wayne Foundation to make sure everything was taken care of, but it seemed that wasn't the case.  They had stopped getting money, but somehow the lights and plumbing still worked in their tiny apartment. They still had food, albeit a paltry amount, in their cupboards. The heat was working too… and Catherine remembered how expensive the gas bills were in years past, which was why they normally didn't turn it on.  But Jason had kept it running for her, because she was often cold.

It didn't make sense, but in that brief moment, the haze lifted from her mind, and now that she was thinking about it, things were not adding up.  Something was awfully wrong with the situation. She didn't know where Jason was or what he had been doing when he wasn't around, but he had somehow kept a roof over their heads, and had somehow had enough cash to pay for her prescription in full.  That wasn't something a ten year old boy should be able to do, and she had been too out of it and too negligent to question it until now.

What could she do though?  Jason was out somewhere. All she could do was wait until he came home.  So she sat at the little kitchen table and cried, feeling helpless, guilty, and ashamed.  Eventually she quieted. She got herself back under control, and though she tried to stay awake, she found herself nodding off, feeling wrung out and drained.  She crossed her arms and set her head down on the table, and fell asleep.

She woke at the doorknob turning.  The apartment was dark now, hours must have passed and it was now late into the night.  Too late for a ten year old boy to be creeping home.

“Jay? Baby?”  Catherine called out.  “Where have you been? I've been worried sick.”

“Mom?”  Jason flicked on the light, and Catherine inspected him as he walked toward the table she was still sitting at.  “Why aren't you in bed? Did you eat the soup I left for you?”

Catherine shook her head, and tried to stay in the  moment. This wasn't about her. It was about Jason, and where he had been going and doing while she had been too checked out to notice.  “Jason, it's past midnight,” Catherine tried to sound stern, but she was out of practice.

“I uh… I was working.  I got a job.” He was within arms reach, and he extended a hand to graze Catherine's fingers, but something caught her eye.  There was something dark mottling his skin under the sleeve of his hoodie. Catherine grabbed his hand and pushed his sleeve up.  His wrist was covered in bruises. Bruises that seemed horrifyingly foreign and yet all too familiar on his slim wrist. Once upon a time, she had sported similar bruises herself.

“Jay, baby,” her voice cracked in panic, “what... what kind of job?”

“Just stuff, Mom.”  He snatched his hand away and stuffed them into his pockets.  “I asked Joey to help me find jobs.”

“Joey?  I thought you didn't like him?”

“I don't, but he knows people.   _Different_ people. People who can pay.”  He turned away and scowled at the floor, but Catherine could see the edges of a reddish mark on his neck.

“People who pay you to do what, Jay?”  Her voice was getting higher in pitch. It was getting hard to breath, her heart was racing so fast.  “These people… they pay you? They hurt you?”

“No. No.  It wasn't like that.  Someone just….” He shifted uncomfortably, crossed his arms over his chest and hunched in on himself.  It was something Catherine had started doing once upon a time too. “Things just got….”

He didn't say it, and neither could Catherine, but she _knew_ what kind of work he had been doing, and her heart just broke.  There was only so many ways a kid could get cash in Crime Alley, and hocking stolen goods was one way, but it wouldn't normally get the kind of cash to pay months of rent let alone their other bills.  Running drugs for dealers was another way, but the bruises… the mark on his neck… it meant someone had gotten close to him. It meant someone had touched him.

There was a sort of whimpering sound, and Catherine registered belatedly that it was _her._  She was crying, screeching in devastation, reaching out and pulling her baby into her arms.

“It's just a job, Mom,” Jason protested, but he didn't resist her hold.  She could feel him shaking in her arms, heaving as he tried to choke back his tears.  “It’s not… it wasn't…. They didn’t hurt me. They didn’t hurt me, Mom. They didn’t hurt me.”  He repeated it, over and over.

Neither of them believed it, but she let him say it.  What could she do? What _in hell_ was she going to do?  Did she call the cops? As far as she knew, the cops in Gotham were corrupt and brutal.  They never did anything but beat people down and take them away. Just like they did to Willis.  They'd take Jason away too. And she couldn't snitch on Joey, because you never knew who was on the take.  It could end up killing them both.

“Don’t go back,” she cried and pushed them apart, but held onto Jason’s shoulders so that they were looking each other in the eye.  “Promise me, you won't do any more jobs.”

“I won’t, Mom.  I promise.”

She knew he was lying, even if he didn't know it himself, because he had the same look on his face that Willis had in the past.  When he promised he wouldn't deal anymore. When he promised not to hit her again. When he promised he was going clean. When he promised he'd never go back to jail.  When he promised he'd always be there for them. Promises promises. They didn't know the meaning of promises. Catherine sure didn't, she had broken every single promise she had ever made.

They cried together until Jason fell asleep beside her on the bed, cradled in the crook of her arm, and Catherine tried to rest beside him.  For once, she couldn’t sleep. Her heart was still racing with anxiety over what to do. Could she tell Doc Thompkins? The Doc was on the up and up as far as she could tell.  She’d know what to do, but Catherine was still afraid they'd take Jason away if they knew what Catherine had let happen.

She looked over at her son, asleep, but he still sniffled with occasional shuddering breaths.  At that moment, it struck her as odd that he looked both young and small and surprisingly big at the same time.  Despite everything, he was still boyish, and bright, and beautiful, and she still wanted to caress his cheeks and kiss his hair.  He also didn’t seem quite as soft anymore. He was looking more and more like Willis every day. The look in his eyes was growing hard, less mischievous.  Less cheerful. He was less and less like a boy even though he was only ten years old… but wait. No… his birthday was in August. He should be eleven now.  Somehow in the past several months she had completely forgotten his birthday.

Catherine bit her hand, stifling another whimper as tears flooded her eyes again.  She was a terrible mother. She was awful. She didn’t deserve Jason. He would have been better off without her.

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

Catherine woke the next day to an excruciating pain tearing across her stomach. She barely made it into the bathroom before she started emptying the measly contents of her belly into the toilet.  Everything blacked out for a moment, and when she came to, there was a coppery tang along with the acid of bile in her mouth. She saw something dark and red against the yellowed and chipped rim of the toilet.  Blood.

Jason was there, stroking her back and talking fast.  She couldn’t make out his words, but he sounded scared.  Catherine felt like she was underwater again as she closed her eyes.  She felt like she was sinking, deeper and deeper. She couldn't breathe.  She was drowning. There was some kind of high pitched whirring in the background, and it vaguely registered that she was lying in a moving vehicle… an ambulance.  There was a lot of noise and racket, and everything went black again.

When she came to, she was lying on something soft, and all was silent save for a quiet beeping in the background.  The lights were dim, and there was something warm pressed to her side. Jason, curled up beside her on the hospital bed.  She lifted an arm, wires and IV lines and all, to wrap around his sleeping form, and fell asleep again.

…

She woke up to screaming.  Shouting. It was Jason. She could hear him yelling.

“Mom!  Mom!” She heard him shriek.

Other voices yelled.  “Grab him! Damnit! Hold him!”

“No! No! I’m not leaving! I’m not leaving!”  Jason was screaming at the top of his lungs, and Catherine struggled to sit up, turning to see that there were a lot of people in the room.  A lot of people she didn’t recognize. Some of them were dressed in scrubs or in white medical coats. And there were two cops. They were grabbing Jason.   _Trying_ to grab him.  Trying to take him away.

“Jason!”  Catherine dragged herself forward and reached her hand out.  And then she was screaming too as she blinked through the blur of tears in her eyes.  “Jason!” She kept screaming his name. They couldn’t take him. They couldn’t take her baby away.

“Mom!  I won’t leave you!”  Jason kicked and punched and twisted.  He screamed so loud it was blood curdling.  And his eyes, Catherine had never seen him so scared.  He was terrified.

“Mom! Mom!”  Jason finally twisted free and bolted back to Catherine’s hospital bed.  He wrapped himself around the bed-railing, and Catherine threw herself on top of him.  

“I’m not leaving,” he was crying.  Sobbing. Gasping. “She needs me. You don’t understand.  She needs me.”

Catherine gripped him for dear life, and Jason gripped her right back.

There was more shouting.  A doctor in a lab coat walked in and said something harsh, and everyone except for the single doctor cleared the room.

Jason was still huddled on the bed beside her, half on the railing, half huddled in Catherine’s arms.  “I won’t let the cops take me away. I won’t do that to you, Mom. I won’t. I promise I won’t. I promise, Mom.”

Catherine couldn’t say anything.  She just cried and cried.

She must have blacked out again, because the next moment there were voices murmuring quietly beside her.  Whispering, but even in hushed voices she could hear it was Jason. And someone else who sounded familiar. She blinked her eyes open slowly to see it was Doc Thompkins, sitting in a chair next to Jason beside the bed.

“... very sorry.  The nurses are mandated to report to CPS if they think there’s any sign of neglect or abuse going on.”  Dr. Thompkins was saying.

Jason nodded.  “I can’t leave doc.  She’ll die without me.  My mom needs me.”

“I understand how you feel Jason, but we can’t let you stay here.  You can’t just live in this hospital room.”

“Why not?”

“Because you need someone to take care of you.  Someone needs to make sure no one's hurting you.  Someone needs to make sure you eat and you're going to school.”

“I’m fine.  Taking care of Mom is more important.”

“No, Jason,” Dr. Thompkins sounded sad.  “ _You_ are the most important.  You’re a child. You need to be protected.  We’ll take care of your mom, but you need someone to take care of _you_.”

They hadn’t noticed she was awake yet, but they did when Catherine started sobbing again.  How had she let it come to this? How could she have let Jason down so much? Doc Thompkins was right.  Someone needed to care for Jason, and that someone couldn’t be her. Not like this. Not while Catherine was sick.  Maybe not ever. Catherine had failed him in almost every way.

“Mom,” Jason was immediately holding her hand again, grabbing a tissue to pat dry her face.

“Jay, baby, listen to the doc.”  It broke her heart to say it, but for godsakes, Catherine had to do _something_ right for once in her life.  Her Baby Jay was precious, and staying with her was ruining him.  Just like she ruined everything else in her life.

“No, Mom,” Jason shook his head, his eyes turning red as he struggled to contain the flood of emotions.  “Don’t make me go away. I don’t want to leave you.”

“Please, baby.  I love you, but Doc is right.”

Doc Thompkins put a reassuring hand on Jason’s shoulder, but Jason just stared at his lap.  She explained about arranging for short-term foster care, that it would be temporary until Catherine could finish her treatment and get better.  Catherine didn’t think Jason was listening. He wouldn’t look at her. It was only when the cops showed up with the social worker that he looked up again.  

Catherine couldn’t unsee the look of betrayal in his eyes as they escorted him out of the room.

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

It could have been days or it could have been weeks, but Catherine stayed in the hospital in an endless routine of tests, and blood draws, and more tests, and more drugs.  Lea, the case manager that had been working with her showed up with stacks and stacks of papers for her to sign. Catherine didn’t read them, she provided what she could, and signed whatever it was that Lea put in front of her.

Jason came, but not every day, and only in the afternoons and evenings, always escorted by  someone -- a cop, a social worker, a foster parent. Catherine wasn’t sure. Their faces blended together.  All she knew was that she was happy when Jason was there and he would hold her hand. Sometimes he would read to her from a book he brought, sometimes he would tell her jokes that made her laugh.  Sometimes he would just curl up beside her, and they would lay together on the narrow bed quietly.

Sometimes she had funny dreams.  She would dream that Jason would climb in the window in the middle of the night and just watch over her.  But when she woke there would be no sign of him.

Eventually the doctors thought she was better enough that she was discharged, and a volunteer from the hospital dropped her back at their tiny apartment in Crime Alley.  The place felt desolate when she walked in. She kept expecting to see Jason peak his head around the corner, or to turn around and find him cooking something on the stove, but he wasn’t there.  He was still in foster care, with a different family. One that could take better care of him. Maybe they’d give him what Catherine couldn’t. Maybe they’d be able to make Jason happy again. Bright and shining like Catherine knew he was like inside.

The volunteer eventually left her alone at the kitchen table, with a bag full of pills and instructions from the doctor.  She didn’t read them, but she took one of the bottles out and shook out some pills. Catherine swallowed them dry, and then she made her way to lay down in bed.  She cried until she fell asleep.

It seemed like hours later, there was some kind of tapping sound coming from the window, and Catherine looked up to see a familiar form.  Jason. She scrambled out of bed to let him in.

“Mom!”  He threw himself at her, and she nearly toppled over, but he managed to counter her weight, and then guided her back to sit on the bed. “They said I couldn’t come see you until the weekend, so I snuck out.  Are you okay?”

“Yeah, baby.”  Catherine held him close.  He smelled clean and he felt solid and strong.  Maybe he had been eating better. Maybe he was just growing.  She knew she shouldn’t have let him stay, but Catherine couldn’t help it.  She wanted to be close to her Baby Jay, so she let him fuss over her.

He read over the discharge papers, he set out her pills in the medicine cabinet and labeled them with some tape and a piece of paper:  Take 1/day. Max 2/day w food. Take for pain.

He unpacked some cans of food from his backpack and set them in the cupboard.  He unpacked a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. Catherine didn’t ask where he got them, she was just glad to see her boy again.  He made her a sandwich, and she took a bite as he sat with her at the kitchen table.

They didn’t say anything for several minutes, but then, “It's not fair mom.  It's just not fair. Why did you have to get sick? When there’s so many other bad people out there who should be sick instead.  Why does it have to be you?”

“I don’t know, baby.  I wish I knew.” But Catherine thought maybe she did know.  Maybe she was one of the bad people. She didn't deserve to have Jason as a son.  Maybe she got sick because she had failed at being a good mom.

Jason just sat and stewed, and Catherine didn't press further.

Eventually Jason got up to leave.  “I gotta go. Before they know I'm gone.  I’ll come back when I can.” He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek and then climbed out the window and was gone.

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

The social workers finally started to bring Jason for a visit, and then they’d get to chat for a couple hours in the daylight.  It felt all too brief and too painful every time he left. Every little hurt inside her seemed to hurt even more, until everything seemed to hurt all the time, so two pills per day started to become three and four.

Catherine knew she was supposed to follow the instructions, but when Jason wasn’t there, all she wanted to do was sleep.  She didn’t want to think about what she was going to do. She didn’t want to think about more treatment, or how she would get the money she needed.  She just wanted to succumb to the haziness and fog until Jason climbed through her window again or when the social worker brought him during the day.  Then she’d stay off the pills for the few hours she could spend with him. She wanted him to read her more funny stories from books he found, and she’d laugh and he’d smile.  And then he’d leave again, and she’d use the pills to fill the hole he’d leave in heart.

Lea, the case worker, came by with more papers.  She signed them, and they start treatment again. This time, Jason couldn't come with her every time.  He was kept away by what seemed like an endless parade of social workers, cops, and foster families. But he still came to see her almost every night. He brought her food and made sure she ate some.  

Sometimes he brought wads of cash, hiding it underneath a loose floorboard.

“Where’d you get the money, Jay?  You promised you'd stop doing jobs,” Catherine found the courage to say, despite the pounding of her heart in fear of his answer.

“Mom, I'm not,” Jason glanced at her and then looked away.  “I do jobs, but don't worry. I know what kinda jobs to take.”

Catherine wanted to feel relieved, but he was lying.  She knew he was lying because Willis used to say the same thing.

“I don't need the money.  Stop it. Whatever it is, baby, just stop.”  She gripped his shoulders and shook him.

Jason trembled beneath her hands, reached up to pull her hands down and hold them between his own.  “Okay, Mom. Okay.” He didn't cry, but he he was biting down, clenching his jaw and swallowing as he said it.

Catherine didn't know if she could believe him.  She wanted to, but what could she do? She couldn't stop Jason from doing whatever it was he was doing.  If she told the cops, they'd stop him from coming to see her, and she couldn't do that. She just _couldn't._  She was thankful that Jason came to see her.  She was thankful that she had something to look forward to every time he went away.  She was thankful that he still loved her. And she loved him too. She loved him so much it hurt.

But it seemed to hurt more and more each time Jason had to leave.  She took more and more pills, chasing the pain away in dreamless sleep.

Eventually the pills ran out though, and the doctors wouldn't give her anymore even though the pain wouldn't stop.  One night, she got desperate enough to pick up the phone. She hadn't seen her old crowd since she went clean, but she could still remember Frankie’s number.  Frankie who she hadn’t seen in over a year. Frankie who Jason had shooed away time and time again with a baseball bat. She’d been clean of Frankie for six months before she got sick, but now that she hurt, Frankie was the only person she knew who could help make the pain go away.  She called him, and he came.

She took a bunch of bills from Jason’s stash under the floorboard, shoved it through the crack in the door when Frankie knocked.  He handed her a bottle of pills, the same ones the doctor wouldn’t give her, and then he left.

She shook out some pills and swallowed them, and then she climbed back into bed to cry.

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

Another few weeks went by, and Catherine could barely remember the days.  She knew the treatment wasn’t going well. The doctors kept whispering. They tried to talk to her, and they tried to ask her to make decisions, but she just couldn’t focus enough to understand.  Doc Thompkins kept at it though. She explained things slowly. She kept repeating things until Catherine could repeat things back to her. She said things bluntly too.

“Catherine, this next part is very important,” Doc Thompkins was holding both her hands and looking straight into her face, “is there someone that you can appoint as a guardian for your son?  Catherine, we’re doing everything we can, but the prognosis isn’t good. You need to be prepared, and you need to ensure Jason is taken care of. Please Catherine, before it's too late.”

Catherine just shook her head.  There was no one. There was no one but her.

Lea kept coming by.  Hospital volunteers kept coming by.  She couldn’t remember their names, and after a while she didn't try.  She did remember though, when one day, her neighbor, Mrs. Walker came by with a cake.  They talked about old times. They talked about Jason, and how he borrowed a cake pan for her birthday last year, and how he forgot to give it back.  Catherine dug it out of her cupboard with tears in her eyes as she handed it back to Mrs. Walker.

They talked a little bit about Willis for some reason, and Catherine started to cry again.  She had written him several times, but she never heard back. She couldn’t remember the last time she checked her mail though, so she wasn’t sure.  She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Her mind was fried. Everything about her was falling apart. She knew there were important things that she should be doing, but she didn’t have the energy for it.  She knew that she needed to figure out who should be taking care of Jason, but she didn’t know the answer. She couldn’t ask Mrs. Walker to do it, she was just a neighbor, but on a whim, Catherine dug out a box of Willis’ old things and handed it to her for safekeeping.

Mrs. Walker was kind, so she agreed.

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

Jason came by a couple days later, but this time, to Catherine’s surprise he stayed.  He took one look at her, and started asking a bunch of questions. What did the doctor say last time she went to the clinic?  What did Lea say? How much longer is she going for treatment? Catherine answered, but she didn’t want to tell him the truth.  The last time she’d talked to Dr. Hernandez, she had talked again about palliative care. She didn’t repeat those words to Jason, because she knew he’d look them up.  And then he’d know: she wasn’t going to make it. She didn’t want him to know yet. She wanted to just have a few more moments with him. She wanted to see if she could make it long enough to see him smile again.

Jason rummaged through the bathroom cabinet and checked her pills.  He seemed satisfied with what he found, but she didn’t keep the pills she got from Frankie in there.  She kept those hidden in her dresser. Jason never looked in there.

She didn’t take any more pills that night, because Jason was with her, and she wanted to enjoy every moment of it.  He heated up some soup from a can on the stove for them.

“Mom, come on eat,” he urged.  “You’re too skinny. Please, Mom.”

Catherine swallowed a few mouthfuls of soup, barely getting it down.  She was feeling nauseous already, but she did her best because Jason smiled softly when she did.

Afterwards, they curled up together on the threadbare couch and Jason read from a book.  Catherine was only half listening. She felt incredibly tired. There were things inside her that ached and ached, but it didn’t seem so bad now that Jason was cuddled up beside her.  She fell asleep, only to wake to a loud noise.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

There was a banging on their door, and then the muffled but stern voice of a man.  “Catherine Todd, this is Gotham City PD. Open the door.”

Jason shot up from couch.  “Shit, they know I'm here.”  He scrambled up, and made for the window, but the door suddenly burst open.  Two uniformed officers stormed in, the first of which made a grab for Catherine.  He was large and burly, and Catherine knew the type -- typical GCPD _thugs_.  The kind who beat Willis down before they took him away. The kind who had already tried to take Jason away at the hospital.  Doc Thompkins was watching that time though, but it was just them and the cops at the moment in the middle of Crime Alley. No one else was watching.  No one would stop them this time from taking Jason away.

“Catherine Todd, we have orders from the court to retrieve your son,” the cop said, gripping her wrist with his large hand so hard it hurt.  She let out a small gasp, and immediately Jason was on him.

“Leave her alone!”  Jason barreled into the cop, knocking him over onto the floor.  The second cop was quick though, and immediately cuffed Jason on the ears.  Jason went sprawling, and Catherine screamed, crawling over to cradle her son in her arms.

He was immediately ripped away from her.  The second cop wrestled him into a bodylock, grabbing him from behind and pinning his arms.

Jason screamed and thrashed.  “No! Fucking pigs, let me go!”  But it was no use. The cop dragged him away and out the door.

“Mom!  Mom!” Jason was wailing.  The bite in his voice was gone, and all Catherine could hear was the frightened voice of her baby boy.

Catherine made to run after him, but the remaining cop blocked her path, shoved her so hard she went crashing to the floor.

The cop sneered.  “Have a good night, Mrs. Todd.”  He shut the door. Catherine could still hear Jason crying out desperately as they dragged him down the stairs.

Catherine remained crumpled on the ground.  She felt broken. She felt like someone had just torn out her heart.  Again.

_/////////////////////////////////////////_

She didn't see Jason after that.  She kept waiting and waiting. Hoping he would come through her window at night, but after a week, and then some more, she gave up waiting.  The disappointment was too painful. She called CPS, but they refused to tell her anything. She feared they had taken her son for good.

She stopped going to the clinic. She stopped taking Lea’s calls.  People knocked on her door, but she wouldn't open it. Sometimes they'd leave food for her outside the door.  She tried to eat, but most of the time she wasn't hungry.

The pain and aches in her body got worse and worse.  She couldn't find a reason to get up anymore. The world just felt too dark and too cruel.  She needed something to help her forget how the world had come crashing down on her. It was just too much to bear.  She just couldn’t take it anymore.

She needed more pills.  And she needed something stronger.  She needed a fix.

She called Frankie.

Two hours later, she had downed three pills and was shooting up for the first time in over a year.  A warmth spread inside her, and in her delirious mind she felt safe. She felt carefree. She forgot she was sick.  She forgot that she was ruined and broken. She forgot that the cops had come and taken the only good thing in her life away.

She felt like she was floating.  Everything felt lighter and more peaceful….

Until it didn't. The come down was quick.   _Too quick._  Quicker than it had been before.

And then she was just tired.  So damn tired, and the pain came back, and the bleakness of reality felt crushing.  She took more pills. She didn't know how many. She shot up again. More this time. Much more.  And she let herself drift away….

It was dark, but she was warm, and she felt like someone was holding her.  This time, it sounded like her Baby Jay, and she was so happy to hear his voice again.

“Mom! No.  Mom, please. Oh god, no. Please, Mom!”

Catherine tried to tell Jason how happy she was that he’d come back.  How happy it made her feel, to know that he still loved her. It felt so good to have his thin arms around her, holding her close to his chest.  She thought she could hear his heart beating. It was thumping, quick and fast.

“Mom, wake up.  Please wake up. Open your eyes, Mom.  Don't leave me. Please don't leave me.”

Jason sounded sad.  He sounded like he was crying, and Catherine wanted to tell him that she was fine -- that for the first time in a long time she felt _good._  She cracked open her eyes, and she saw her Baby Jay.  She saw his eyes looking back at her. Even though they were wet with tears they were still so bright, and blue, and so beautiful.  He was so much stronger than her. He was so much braver than her. He could do everything that Catherine couldn't, and so much more.  She knew that for each and every one of her own failings, Jason would forever find a multitude of ways to succeed. She could still see it... even though he was sad, even though it flickered like a candle, he still had that _light_ inside his heart.

Catherine was sad too, but the light inside her had already flickered out.

She closed her eyes, and didn't open them again as she sank into the deep darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple notes about this second half….
> 
>   * I make no claims as to how realistic this fic is… especially around medical treatment and legal proceedings regarding the emergency removal of child. 
>   * It was probably clear in the fic, but my headcannon is: yes Catherine was sick, she was poor, she had addiction problems, but the real problem was isolation, lack of a social support network, and disempowerment. She clearly loved her son, but like so many poor and impoverished women, her mental state left her incapable of making the kinds of decisions that normal functional people would. She was not empowered to take matters into her own hands and do the right thing for Jason. It's tragic, and this kind of story happens every day all over the world, and kids do end up on the streets or are forced into prostitution. If they survive, these kids are damaged for the rest of their lives. 
>   * Some of the DC writers have touched on it with Jason, but I feel like it never gets as deep as I would like. DC has kept it mainstream in general and doesn't want to touch it too much. They kind of gloss over what this kind of trauma does to a person, but it's interesting to explore in the context of Jason’s character. 
>   * Anyhow, please leave a comment and let me know what you thought. If you liked, please leave a kudos! Thanks for reading! 
> 



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